Claire Delacroix (20 page)

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X

Perhaps it had been unwise to make such an accusation when trapped with the criminal in question. I clapped my hands over my mouth, cursing my own newly impulsive tongue.

But Gawain, far from stalking me and choking the life from me, began to laugh. His laugh was merry and deep, the kind of infectious and hearty laugh that rolls effortlessly from a man’s gut and sets all other lips to twitching.

I straightened. “There is nothing amusing about a man’s death.”

“There is much amusing about the thought of me killing another.” A thrum of amusement echoed beneath Gawain’s words, then his tone sobered. “No, not any other, but your husband.”

The word hung betwixt us, heavy with accusation. I fidgeted, though I knew I owed this scoundrel nothing. “I did not intend for you to know.”

“Clearly.”

“I could not see that it mattered, not to you…”

“How could such a detail not be of import, even to me?”

I stood straight. “How was I to guess that a thief would have some concern for his immortal soul?”

“I have no care for my immortal soul.” Gawain dismissed the very thought. “But it is well known that in this corner of Christendom, a husband who finds another man abed with his wife may exact whatever punishment he sees fit…and that, contrary to custom elsewhere, the due is oft exacted of the man not the woman.”

“But Fergus is not vengeful…”

“You assume much of your deceased spouse. All men are vengeful, Evangeline, when they discover they have shared through no choice of their own. I would not be so foolish as to bed the wife of any man in this land, not if I had the benefit of knowing her true circumstance.”

“Indeed? You did not ask any questions when we met afore.”

“The onus was not upon me to mention such a significant detail! Had I been wed, I would have told you.”

“I heartily doubt that!” I propped my hands upon my hips and glared in his direction, vexed that he blamed me for all. “Who could I have been, other than the laird’s wife? What did you imagine was my circumstance?”

“That Fergus was your father!” Gawain was irked by the pitch of his voice. I should have liked to have seen the look of him when he was agitated for I imagined it was a rare sight. “Fergus was sufficiently aged to be your sire, was he not?”

“That is no uncommon situation! Even so, how could you believe that seducing the unwed daughter of the laird would bring no such repercussions?” I scoffed. “You know less of men than I if you believed such folly!”

“You deceived me, Evangeline, and I could have paid for our deeds with my hide. That may be of no merit to you, but I am rather fond of ensuring my own survival.” Gawain took a breath as if steadying himself. “I have risked my life a thousand times and more, but always, always by my own choice.” He cleared his throat slightly. “And for the prospect of reward, of course.”

“Of course.” Coupling with me was apparently not such a reward, and I had no qualms about revealing that I was insulted. My back straightened and my chin rose. “Did you kill Fergus, then, to save your sorry life?”

Gawain’s chuckle sounded again, so deep that it must have been coaxed from some secret refuge. “Did you?”

I was shocked. “What reason had I to kill my spouse?”

“What reason had you to let him live?” my companion asked. “Perhaps he discovered the truth of our liaison. Perhaps he kept you from wedding a lover true. Perhaps he abused you. Perhaps…”

“I did not kill him.”

“Then what stains your hands?”

I felt my color rise. “The juice of a pomegranate.”

“A pomegranate?” Gawain’s tone turned thoughtful and I had no doubt he would believe I had yearned for him. “I had no inkling that they could be found so far north.”

I heard him saunter closer and took a step back. “They cannot,” I admitted breathlessly. “Save in exceptional circumstance.”

Gawain’s laughter was a mere exhalation, a sound of surprise and pleasure. His voice dropped so low as to make me shiver. “It was indeed exceptional circumstance, my lady fair.”

I averted my burning face, too mortified to summon a word to my lips.

“Perhaps you imagine that I killed Fergus to win your favor.” The very prospect set Gawain chuckling again, a fact that no lady could find flattering.

Understand that I had had what I desired of this man, that I had no maidenly fantasies of our living in nuptial bliss forevermore. I merely considered it graceless for him to boldly state that his sentiments were the same as mine.

And I was insulted that he did not at least desire to bed me again, if you must know the truth of it. He was supposed to be consumed with lust for me. Men were always supposed to be consumed with lust for women above their station, and this affliction should be the worst for charming, handsome scoundrels and thieves of no good repute.

I glared in Gawain’s direction, indignant that he did not think I was worth murdering another, then furious with myself for even desiring that a man should think as much.

What a talent this man had for addling my wits!

Gawain cleared his throat, apparently sensing my hostility. “Would you prefer that I lied to you?” His voice hardened when I said nothing. “Would you have me tell you sweet lies of how I love you, how I yearn for you, how no other woman’s beauty can compare to yours?” I heard him step closer, even as my traitorous heart leapt. “Would you have me fill the air with nonsense, with worthless pledges intended to coax you to my bed again?”

“Of course not.” I was cross that he made me so aware of the muddle of my expectations.

“Yet you bristle when I tell you the truth.”

“You do not know how to tell the truth.”

“Indeed?” Gawain leaned against the wall beside me and my pulse leapt at his cursed proximity. I struggled to keep from glancing his way, though I shivered when his voice dropped to a low caress. “I shall tell you a truth, Evangeline. You seduced me as no other woman has ever done and our nights together were both sweet beyond compare.”

My heart lodged in my throat so I could say nothing.

Gawain’s words heated. “I will not sully that truth with a lie, a lie that I seek to wed you or to win your heart for my own. I have no such quest. I never have and never will seek a bride.”

I looked toward him, for I could not restrain my curiosity no longer. “Then, what do you seek?”

“Companionship and pleasure, for so long as matters are magical for both parties and not a moment longer.”

“Marriage does not necessarily become burdensome.”

His smile flashed in the shadows. “You can say this to me, given your own marriage? Do you not feel in some corner of your heart a measure of relief that ancient Fergus is dead?”

I turned away, hating that he had guessed my secret. “I feel shame that I did not love him enough,” I said, for this too was true.

“Your heart is your own, Evangeline,” Gawain said softly, his words all the more persuasive for being whispered in the shadows. “And so it should be, as mine is my own. One’s heart can never be commanded to love another, but duty or vow. I will never be shackled to any soul by a pledge, by a lie that tender feelings will never change.” His tone became harsh. “People change, circumstances change, feelings change. I will not let some foolish optimism trap me within the sentiment of days long gone.”

I was more intrigued than I should have been. “You were wedded before,” I guessed. “And unhappy.”

“No, not I. I have never stepped within the nuptial noose, for I learned young to avoid it.”

I waited for a long moment but he told me no more. Indeed, he seemed to have become somewhat melancholy, as if an old, unhappy memory gripped him. I was curious. I wondered whether Gawain had once loved a woman trapped in a loveless match and had never had the chance to win her hand for himself.

Indeed, I sighed quietly at the tragic romance of it all, for such a history could have made him the apparently carefree scoundrel that he was. I felt a strange unwelcome sense of companionship with him, as if we were kindred souls instead of adversaries.

Perhaps that was what prompted my impulsive confession.

“I will grant you then a truth that you deserve to know,” I said. “I seduced you because I wished for a son and my husband got no child upon me in five years.” I felt Gawain’s scrutiny upon me, as if he assessed both me and the tale, but I did not look up.

“Fair enough,” he murmured. “And did you succeed?”

“Adaira says as much, but it is early days to be certain.”

“If it was of such import that you bear a son, then why did your father insist that you wed so ancient a man as Fergus?”

“My father believed that he owed Fergus a debt.”

“Why?”

I sighed, then reasoned that we had nothing but time. “Fergus came to Inverfyre some three summers after the
Titulus
was stolen. The falcons were without issue and food was scarce. Fergus came to pledge himself to the Laird of Inverfyre, if the laird would have him, for he had been driven from his lands by the crown. All he had to surrender as a gift were forty chickens and a cock.”

“A rich gift by any accounting.”

“A richer one still given the emptiness of our bellies. We have never grown many crops at Inverfyre, for the land is steep and ridden with stones. And we always had coin from our trade in falcons to acquire much of what was needed. Without trade in the birds, our treasury emptied with startling speed.”

“The arrival of Fergus was timely, then,” Gawain mused. “And your father deemed this so great a favor that he pledged his sole daughter to this keeper of chickens?”

I flushed. “To save my father’s vassals and his pledge to sustain them was no small thing. Fergus served my father for many years after that, too. I suppose my father respected his counsel.”

“And you?” came his quiet but relentless question. “Did you respect Fergus?”

I caught my breath and turned away, even though I knew he could not see me. “He was my lord husband and his word, my command.”

My declaration hung between us, unpersuasive even to me. I licked my lips, but could add nothing more compelling to what already I had said.

The truth was that I savored this unexpected honesty between us and would not destroy it with a lie, however well-intentioned it might be. I spoke with impulsive haste. “In this spirit of sharing truths, will you pledge to never lie to me?”

Gawain sounded amused. “Why?”

“It is good to have one person to rely upon for the truth.” I half-laughed. “It might not be so onerous a pledge, for we may not survive long.”

“You can only rely upon me for the truth if you can believe my pledge.” He came to lean his shoulder against the wall beside me.

I was unable to read Gawain’s expression in the shadows though I felt the weight of his gaze. I had difficulties drawing a full breath. “Assume that I can,” I whispered.

I felt him study me, felt the intensity of his stare. He hesitated so that I wondered whether anyone had ever said they would believe him before. “Fair enough,” he finally said, his words husky. “You have my pledge of honesty, Evangeline, for whatsoever you decide it is worth.”

“Swear it.”

Gawain caught my hand in the warmth of his, then planted a kiss in my palm. He folded my fingers over the heat of his touch, then lifted my hand to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my hand and I caught my breath, even as the passion stirred within me. “I swear to you, Evangeline of Inverfyre, that only truth shall pass from my lips to your ears.”

He bent then and kissed my ear with delightful languor. His heartbeat skipped beneath my fingers when his lips touched me and I found my face turning, to welcome his embrace upon my lips. There is something about darkness that encourages intimacy, something about shadows that makes one bolder than might be possible beneath the sun’s bright eye. I could not resist his touch, for with a simple caress he summoned the wanton in me.

I had been taught to surrender nothing to a man, taught that my own desire was not of import, and yet Gawain could make me forget all I knew.

And worse, I did not care.

* * *

I finally summoned the will to step away from the temptation he offered, snatching my hand from his grip. I asked what I most wished to know, thinking this truth would cool this dangerous ardor between us. “Did you kill Fergus?”

I heard Gawain’s smile in his words, but he spoke with a compelling certainty. “I am a thief, Evangeline, perhaps a rogue and a scoundrel, perhaps a forger and one to make much of opportunity…”

“A formidable list of talents.”

Gawain ignored me. “…but I am not a killer. In fact, I have only once killed another, and even then did not do so with my own hands. You may rest assured that my victim was not your recently deceased spouse.”

I wished that I could discern his features clearly. This confession should have frightened me, I suppose, but I have lived all my life in the company of men unafraid to mete justice with their own blades. The weight of the king’s hand is light in these territories, and even my father’s justice had only prevailed without contest inside the high walls of Inverfyre’s keep. Honorable men could be relied upon to do what needed to be done to ensure peace and justice.